


Beestings

by Writing-Rammstein (writingfanfic)



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Body Image, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 20:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13888305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Rammstein
Summary: For the prompt: 'Could I pretty please get something where the reader is self conscious about her small boobs and Till reassured her and loves her down right??'Hey, is that... some projection from myself I see here?





	Beestings

You look at yourself in the mirror, and sigh, lifting your arms up. Well, they’re pert and perky, you suppose. They just… happen to look like beestings. You bite your lip, and grab your padded bra, eyes on the floor.

“Good morning. Oh, you are shirtless. This is a nice surprise.” You turn your head, and Till is standing over by the door, arms folded. He sees your face, and is across the room in almost two strides, pulling you into his arms. “What is the matter?”

“It doesn’t matter.” You look at yourself, sideways, and slump against his chest. “It really doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me.” He looks down at you, and you shrug. “Please.”

“I just…” You exhale. “Hah. It doesn’t matter! It’s really, not a big thing. Haha. Ironically.” His brow furrows. “I just… haha.” You turn around, and guide your bra around just under your - pancakes, you suppose. You’re running through every insult you got changing in high-school. _Beestings, pancakes, fried eggs_. Till puts his hand out, and you stop - he unclips your bra and throws it aside, before he scoops you up and sits on the bed with you on his knee.

“Okay. You are lying to me. Be honest.” You shrug, and nuzzle up under his chin. “What has happened?”

“Do you think my boobs are too small?” you ask quietly, and confusion crosses his face, swiftly followed by bemusement, a little anger, and then more confusion.

“Who has said this to you?” he asks, voice incredibly level, and you shake your head. _Everyone_ , pretty much.

“I don’t know. I used to get teased about it.” You swallow nervously. “I mean… didn’t you notice it took a while for you to talk me into leaving the lights on?”

“I thought you were… nervous in general.” He gently runs his hand up to your breast, cupping it gently. “I do not think they are too small, sweetheart. I think your body is beautiful.” You shake your head, and he sighs. “What has caused this?”

“I don’t know!” you say, a little fiercely, and he reacts by pulling you closer, gently stroking his thumb over your skin. “I just… I don’t know. You must’ve slept with so many people with…” You mime enormous, cartoonish breasts with your hands, and he tilts his head.

“I have slept with girls with many body types,” he says, solemnly. “Do you worry because some were taller? Shorter? Larger? Thinner?” You shrug, looking down at your toes. “Do you worry because some were blonde? Some were American? Some were quiet?”

“A little,” you say, quietly. “Of course I worry, but this is… a main thing.”

“Okay. So… what shall all the other girls worry about with you?” he asks, and you look up at him. “You are sat here, on my knee, we are about to go and eat what I have cooked in the kitchen for us, and I think you are beautiful.” He smiles at you, and you lean up, kissing his cragged jaw. “I think they have much more to worry about.”

“You mean that?” you say, and he leans you back, dipping his head to kiss your breasts gently. You smile, and then wriggle. “It tickles…”

“Clearly I have not been showing you my appreciation for them enough.” He smiles at you - that shy, sweet smile that most people don’t get to see, and your stomach flips. “So…” He reaches out for your bra, and his smile fades a little into a thoughtful sadness as his fingers play over the padding. “You do not need this. I prefer it when you wear a vest. I like to see through your shirt.” His smile returns, and you bat at him, giggling as he kisses you.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, and he cradles you close, discarding the bra with a flick of his wrist.

“I love you too,” he replies.


End file.
